Heart Break
by Nfinity
Summary: AU, Post Quest. As Merry lays injured and dying, Pippin relives precious memories and tries to find the will to go on. NONSLASH


Author's Note: I honestly have no idea where this came from, but I owe it all to my muse of woe, Ebon. Cheers and mucho Gondorian lovin' to you. This is not a slash, no matter how it can or can't be taken. The love I keep mentioning is brotherly love, not romantic love…there is a difference. And, unfortunately, someone had to die...

Heart Break

1.

He walked as if in a dream. Nothing seemed real to him, and this surreal quality gave him the knowledge that what was going on was real; he wasn't dreaming no matter how much he wished he was. Standing there, he came back to himself as a hobbit nurse pushed him out of the way, with not so much as an 'excuse me' or a 'sorry, sir'. So much was happening so fast, he couldn't keep up with the whirl of activity.

"It's just a scratch, Pip," Merry had said, wincing despite his reassurance. "I'll be fine, you'll see." And then he'd smiled that Brandybuck smile, only his smile was edged with brittle pain.

And now… Merry was fighting a terrible infection, battling for his life. Tears filled Pippin's eyes as he realized that this was one battle Merry might not win. He was again pushed out of the way with no regard, watching silently as the hobbit nurses mixed salves, brewed potions and did everything they could to make Merry comfortable. A sympathetic hobbit nurse stopped in front of Pippin, his forlorn look and silent tears moving her, and she moved him into an adjacent room, sitting him down, closing the door on all the activity and producing, from out of thin air it seemed to Pippin, a hot cup of chamomile and lavender tea.

"Drink this, young sir," she said softly. Pippin automatically took the cup and sipped, wincing as the hot liquid invaded his mouth. "Don't you worry yor'self, Mas'er Peregrin." Stress made the exhausted young nurse's Pincup accent thicken and Pippin smiled gratefully. "Mas'er Merry is in the best o' hands."

Four hours and five cups of tea later, the flurry of activity finally slowed, and one old hobbit, Gammer Glinna, emerged from the room. She stared beadily down at Pippin, her black eyes glittering in the candlelight. Finally she gave a great "humph!" and settled into a chair, her eyes never leaving his.

"I told him so," she said sternly, shifting her gaze finally to the closed door of Merry's bedroom. A collective sigh of relief came from the corner where Pippin, Merry's parents, and Frodo were sitting, waiting for news. No one spoke like about the dying. "He should have come straight to me when it happened." She turned to Pippin. "He wouldn't tell me what happened? That wound is mighty deep for a scratch, lad. Care to elaborate?" Pippin hung his head and tears came to his eyes again. Everyone looked at him expectantly.

"It was my fault," he whispered. A tear fell on his lap. Merry's mother gasped. Saradoc looked confused.

"How?" Pippin looked up at them, guilt and sorrow showing plain on his features.

"We were practicing with our swords, not actually fighting, just practicing and I, my sword, it slipped and cut him. He said he was all right, that he wasn't much hurt." The tears fell in earnest. "It was an accident." Glinna nodded.

"Well, the wound is clean and it's not got any more signs of infection. He should be fine, but he needs to rest and not do anything that'll put strain on him. I had to sew the cut closed." Pippin nodded, feeling very bad. Frodo reached over and patted him on the back. A nurse came from Merry's room and turned to Pippin.

"He wants to see you, sir." Pippin got up and looked at Glinna, who nodded. He went into the room, hearing Glinna say quietly that they should all get some rest before he shut the door.

Merry was sitting up, a plate of food in his lap. He was in a nightshirt, and his face was paler than it had ever been, but he looked all right. Pippin stood by the door. Merry looked up from a very tempting carrot and smiled.

"You can come in, Pip." His voice was strong, with no implication of pain in it. Pippin walked over and sat on the bed, as close to Merry as he could get. He gazed at Merry for a long moment before looking down into his lap. Merry sighed and lifted Pippin's chin with his fingers. "It's not your fault, love. You weren't aiming to hit me, so stop looking like you killed me. If I remember correctly, it was you that said we should use practice swords instead of the real ones. So really if it's anyone's fault, it's my own." Pippin shook his head.

"You're too stubborn to listen to your smarter half." Merry grinned.

"Smarter? Oh, I wouldn't say smarter, dear Pippin, just a little more sense." Pippin grinned, glad to see that Merry was, in fact, not terribly injured.

"Silly Took," Merry said fondly, brushing his fingers through Pippin's auburn curls. "I'm sorry I had to go and ruin all the fun just when you got here. It feels like I haven't seen you in years and now I'm going to be spending your visit in bed." Pippin smiled sadly.

"I'll just stay here and cheer you up," he said, trying to wipe the frown off his best friend's face. Merry moved to put the plate of food on the bedside table and grimaced, a hiss of pain slipping through his clenched teeth. Pippin got up quickly and took the plate from him, setting it down and rearranging the pillows and Merry into a more comfortable position.

"I'm fine, Pippin," Merry said in a gruff voice, seeing his cousin's concern. "I just need to be careful. It still hurts a bit when I move." He closed his eyes and sighed. "What shall we do, eh?"

Pippin smiled, knowing just what would cheer his cousin up. "How about a story or two, Merry?" Merry smiled and nodded.

"Aye, I think a story would help a lot, Pip." Pippin began the story, an older one that Merry had originally told him, embellishing it until it wandered far from the original, occasionally making Merry laugh and comment. Soon they both fell asleep, worn out from the emotional trials of the day, Pippin curled up against his favorite person in the world.

2.

The first rays of the sun peeked their way through the partly closed curtain to reveal two content hobbits lying beside each other, the smaller nestled into the larger's right side, his hand wrapped lightly around his stomach.

Pippin was on fire. He was burning of thirst and sweating profusely. He opened his eyes, wondering why the sun was burning him alive. Then he realized that he wasn't the one on fire. It was Merry.

He jumped up, running through the door and into the hall, frantically searching for the Gammer. "Help! Somebody help!" A hobbit-maid ran up. "Go get Gammer Glinna, hurry! Merry has a terrible fever!" The frightened young lass ran off, leaving Pippin feeling helpless.

Barely a second later, the old hobbit came barrelling up, puffing with the effort of running, her chest heaving, and nightgown billowing around her. In great gasping breaths she spat out, "What's wrong?"

"He's burning up!" Pippin choked out. Glinna pushed past him, and ran through the open door, the hobbit-maid trailing her.

"Get the nurses up! I need cold water, compresses and my kit!" Glinna turned to the terrified lass. "NOW!"

Pippin paced the floor, not looking at the pale faces of Merry's parents or the quiet fear on Frodo's. Merry had to be okay. He had to! Anger rose through him like a knife, bitterly edged with fear. The door opened and shut quietly and Pippin stopped pacing, looking up into the tired eyes of the Gammer. She sighed and looked sadly at them.

"There's nothing more I can do, he must've reopened the wound sometime in the night, infection got in and spread too quickly," she said softly, her voice heavy with the sorrow on her face. A sob escaped from Esmerelda. "He's in Eru's hands now." She turned to Pippin, a grim set to her face. "I'm sorry."

Pippin's eyes widened and the angry sword rose to his throat, cutting his voice as he shouted. "NO!" Everyone jumped. "He's not going to die! He's NOT! Stop acting like he is!" Angry tears fell from his eyes and he turned away, straight into Frodo. Frodo grabbed him and pulled him into his arms, but Pippin resisted, fighting him. "NO!" He shouted, his voice hoarse and filled with unshed tears. "Let me go! Let me go, he's okay! He's not dying!" He broke free from Frodo's grasp and ran, anger and pain and fear driving him away from all of them.

_He's not going to die! He can't!_ Pippin ran, tears blinding him. He ran into someone and pushed past, not bothering to say sorry, his pain raging in him. He ran out the door and through the fields, into the dreaded Old Forest. Finally he collapsed, sobbing, unable to run anymore.

"WHY?" The word broke from his throat, tearing through him and becoming a howl of despair. "Haven't you taken enough from us? Why can't you let him alone?" He collapsed on the ground, the silent forest a sentinel, a watcher to his pain. He sobbed until the tears dried up in him, the anger bleeding out with every tear, until there was only the pain left in him. Coldness crept into his heart, creating shadowy places for fear to stretch out an icy hand to grip him. Merry was dying. His best friend, with whom he'd shared laughter and tears, sickness and heartache with, someone he loved like a brother, was soon to go somewhere Pippin couldn't follow.

"Merry," he whispered, his heart shattering into a million frozen pieces. Dry sobs racked his form and he curled into a tight ball, trying to forget everything, to go numb from all the pain. Soon he fell into a fitful sleep.

3.

"C'mon, Pippin. Hurry. It's not that far now." Eighteen-year-old Merry stopped at the top of the large hill waiting for ten-year-old Pippin to catch up. "Oh, you're gonna miss it!" Pippin ran up the rest of the hill and stood panting beside Merry.

"My legs aren't as long as yours, Mer," Pippin puffed. Merry shushed him.

"Look." Pippin gasped. The sun was setting low over the hills, its last rays casting a golden glow over every hill and tree, turning the green grass of the meadow into burnished gold tinged with flame. Pippin looked up at Merry and lost his breath. Merry's curls had caught fire, and his eyes blazed brilliant cobalt, his skin a creamy gold. In that last moment of sunlight he looked ethereal; both a mystical being and a real one at the same time. Then the sun sank below a hill and he looked like Merry again, a beautiful smile on his face. The sky before them was a violent shade of purple, blues and soft reds swirling through, the underside of the clouds tinged with gold from the setting sun.

"Wasn't that magical, Pippin?" He asked, his voice hushed and secretive, like if he said it any louder the magic would vanish and the moment would break. Pippin nodded, no words in his meager vocabulary to describe the feelings inside him. He wanted to whoop for joy and cry at the same time, exultant and miserable all at once. His eyes welled up and Merry's smile turned into a frown of concern as he knelt down in front of Pippin. "What's the matter, Pip?" Pippin shook his head and screwed his eyes shut against the tears.

"It was just so beautiful and now it's gone!" Merry smiled and enveloped Pippin in a hug. He rested his cheek on the younger hobbit's unruly curls.

"Aye, it was beautiful. But it's not all gone." Pippin raised his head and sniffed at Merry.

"It's not?" Merry shook his head and patted the Took affectionately.

"No," he said, looking at the violet and azure sky. "You'll remember it, and so, a part of it will always be with you. And, who knows, it may happen again someday." Pippin heard the weight in the words, but the double meaning and wisdom escaped him.

4.

Pippin stirred, slowly opening his eyes and groaning at the pain in his head. Where was he? Realization hit him like a hammer in the gut. _Merry._ He jumped up and ran, hoping against hope that he wasn't too late, that Merry would forgive him for running away.

He crept into the unnaturally quiet house and went straight to Merry's rooms, praying that no one was there. His prayers weren't answered. Frodo was there, waiting for him. He frowned, then noticed the dirt and dried tears streaking his face, and the leaves caught in his hair. His face softened and he embraced his cousin.

"I'm not too late, am I?" Pippin whispered. Frodo shook his head, his blue eyes grave.

"He's gotten worse, Pippin," he said lowly. "He keeps asking for you." Pippin made a fruitless attempt to clean himself up a bit, and Frodo handed him a handkerchief. Pippin pulled the leaves from his hair and wiped most of the mud and tears off his face, then walked slowly to the door. He still didn't want to believe it.

"Merry?" Light spilled in from the hallway and Merry stirred, squinting and smiling weakly at Pippin. Pippin walked as calmly as possible across the miles to Merry's bed from the door. He would not break down. For Merry's sake, he had to be strong. He sat down and took Merry's hand. Merry smiled again and picked a leaf out of Pippin's hair. Pippin forced himself to smile back. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment then Merry spoke.

"Glinna told me that I'm dying, Pippin," he said softly, his voice weak and hoarse. He looked scared, and Pippin saw he was trying to hold back tears. "I knew though, before she said anything. I keep getting weaker and weaker." He broke off, trying to reign in his emotions, breathing heavily. "You have to promise me—" He swallowed hard and squeezed Pippin's hand. "Promise me that you'll not, you'll not close yourself off. I want you to find happiness, Pippin." He smiled, the bright Merry-smile again. "You've too much joy and, and love, to be shut out of the world." His face turned serious again. "Promise me, now, that you won't do that." Tears welled in Pippin's eyes and he leaned down and pressed his forehead against Merry's.

"I promise Merry," he said, his voice breaking. Merry nodded and then his eyes widened in fear.

"Oh, Pippin, I don't want to die!" The resolve that had kept him from coming completely undone broke and he sobbed aloud, tears streaking down his ashen face, and Pippin cried with him, both of them mourning what would be lost: Merry's future. Merry clung to Pippin, desperately trying to keep himself in this world, with his best friend. Slowly, his grip on Pippin eased, and his tears dried up, and he closed his eyes. After a moment, Pippin's eyes widened with fright as he looked at Merry's still form.

"Merry? Merry!" One blue eye squinted at him, and then Merry was softly stroking Pippin's hand, reassuring him quietly.

"Don't worry Pippin, I'm not leaving you yet. There are still things I need, that I need to tell you, before—." Pippin knew what that pause meant: before Merry went to a place Pippin couldn't follow. "I want you to know, from the moment I first saw you, I loved you, more than anything else, and you're like, like a brother to me." His smile grew fond and wistful. His voice was growing faint and his eyes were getting darker. Pippin felt like crying, sobbing, because he knew Merry was leaving him. "I, I want you to be happy, Pippin. That's what I've always wanted." The tears flowed freely from Pippin's eyes as he nodded.

"I love you too, Merry-mine." Half-blinded by tears Pippin watched Merry close his eyes, a long sigh escaping his half-parted lips. His body seemed to sag as his spirit left him. Merry was gone. "Merry. Merry? No! Merry don't leave me!" Sobs racked his body and Pippin, torn apart by pain, pulled Merry's limp body to him and held him, gently rocking back and forth, sobbing loudly into Merry's lifeless shoulder.

"Pippin, Pippin, let him go." Frodo was beside him, trying to get Pippin to release Merry's body. "He's gone Pippin, let go." Pippin let go and stumbled into Frodo, sobbing, nearly falling. Frodo held him up and cried with him.

5.

Pippin sat by the window, watching the rain beat steadily upon the glass. The weather reflected only the tiniest margin of Pippin's feelings. With Merry gone, what did he have to live for? Pippin's heart ached with longing to follow him to the halls of Mandos, where their friendship didn't have to end. But he remembered his promise to Merry. He had to be strong for his aunt and uncle, his family. He couldn't let his grief get in the way of living. But how could he, when every breath was forced, and every thought sent searing pain to his heart; when his soul felt rent in two? He leaned his head against the cool glass and continued watching the rain slide down the window, like so many tears from the heavens.

6.

"Leave him alone!" The lads scattered into a circle, leaving one small and battered hobbit standing in the middle. Merry's blue eyes stared hard at the bigger lads, staring each of them down. "Why were you picking on my cousin?" They shrugged, looking at the ground and shuffling their feet. "Well," Merry said matter-of-factly, "if no one is going to explain, maybe I can have you explain it to your fathers, who will be less generous than me." A slightly smaller hobbit lad stepped forward.

"We was jus' playin' with him and he starts a'cryin' and carrying on like a baby, so we started teasin' him." Merry frowned, and the little hobbit backed away, amid scowls from his companions.

"I am not a baby!" The young Took in question stated firmly, glaring at the others.

"He was the one 'at started all the fightin'!" Another boy shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Pippin. Pippin stuck his tongue out as the others shouted in agreement.

"Go home, and I won't tell your parents. But if I catch you fighting again…" He let the sentence trail meaningfully. They quickly vacated the area and Merry went over to Pippin, going over his many injuries.

"I'm not a baby, am I, Merry?" Pippin sniffed morosely. Merry didn't say anything, just brushed some of the dirt out of Pippin's auburn curls.

"Did you start the fight?" Merry asked as they began walking back to the Smials. Pippin grew ashamed from the tone in Merry's voice and nodded to the ground. Merry sighed. "Pippin, you're too old to let teasing get you riled up. You're old enough now that you can just brush those comments aside." Pippin nodded to the dirt, then looked up at Merry.

"But they were making fun of you, Merry. I don't care what they say about me, but nobody makes fun of you around me without asking for a fight." Merry sighed.

"Pippin, those lads were nearly my size, they could have really hurt you, especially if they ganged up on you." Pippin smiled proudly.

"But they didn't. I was only fighting the one with the split lip, the others were just watching." Merry shook his head, knowing that it was hopeless.

"Did you really split his lip?" Pippin nodded, showing the gash on his knuckle.

"I hit his teeth." Merry smiled in spite of himself.

"Just promise me you won't fight anymore lads, no mater what they say about me, or you, or even Frodo, okay?" Pippin considered for a moment.

"I promise Merry," he said at last. "But you know I'd fight anyone for you, right?" Merry smiled and put his arm around his rambunctious cousin.

"I know, Pip, and I'd do the same for you."

7.

Tears copied the rain on the window and Pippin did nothing to stop them. Why did it have to hurt so much? How could he go on, when memories kept resurfacing and driving him deeper into the despair that stretched like a gaping void in his heart, waiting to swallow him whole? He wiped his eyes and looked up at his cousin. Frodo's eyes were said and his face was solemn.

"It's time Pippin," he said softly, tears shimmering in his blue eyes. "Glinna says we shouldn't wait any longer for the others. You have to start going now." Pippin nodded, wanting nothing more than to run from this task.

"I don't think I can _do_ this, Frodo," Pippin said, his voice hoarse from crying. He stood and looked at Frodo, his grief and inestimable sorrow showing plainly on the once lively face. Frodo's own face was sympathetic, and he touched Pippin's shoulder lightly.

"You have to, Pippin, he wouldn't have wanted you to wallow in despair for the rest of your life. You need this closure." Merry's body would be taken to Gondor, his chosen resting place. Though the journey would be much longer than the time a person could travel with the dead, Elrond of Rivendell, and a few other Elves, performed a ritual that would enable Pippin to travel with Merry the whole way. He would be taking the trip alone.

They had displayed Merry's body in a foyer, for friends and relatives to pay their last respects. For three days, a steady stream of people had come from across the Shire to see their beloved friend. Estella Bolger had broken down and wept bitterly at his side; her brother standing behind her, a look of disbelief on his face. Saradoc Brandybuck had confined himself to his room, unable to face the ordeal. Matters of Buckland had been handed over to Merry's close cousin, Berilac Brandybuck.

Now Pippin stood alone, all preparations for the journey completed, looking at the seemingly peaceful look on his best friend's face. "Oh, my Merry." No tears came to his dry eyes. He'd cried until he could cry no more. Hobbit bearers came in and reverently lifted Merry's bier, taking him to the cart that Pippin would drive to Gondor. A deep sigh came from beside him and a warm hand slipped into his own, startled Pippin. He looked down at the small form of Diamond of Long Cleeve. Her nearly black eyes stared up at him silently, sorrow and a little hope mixing in their depths.

"I don't want to replace Merry," she said softly. "I know how much he meant to you. I would never insult you or him by believing that I can usurp his place in your heart." She paused, letting the words sink in. "But I hope in time you might have room enough for me and him." Her smile was soft and fleeting. "However long you need, I will wait. Just remember that I will always be here for you, Pippin Took." Pippin stared down at her, strange emotions warring in his heart and he nodded, tears coming to his eyes. He gently squeezed her hand and she slipped away as quietly as she'd arrived.

There was love left in his heart, Pippin found. He silently thanked Merry for showing him pure love, untainted by attachments or expectations, knowing that somewhere, Merry would be smiling, his dark blue eyes twinkling in the light. Pippin imagined him as he looked on that long ago summer evening in the setting sun, blazing brilliant gold and softer hues of orange. Armed with the certainty that Pippin would survive, would grow stronger, and would, someday, love again.

_"Aye, it was beautiful. But it's not all gone." Pippin raised his head and sniffed at Merry._

_"It's not?" Merry shook his head and patted the Took affectionately._

_"No," he said, looking at the violet and azure sky. "You'll remember it, and so, a part of it will always be with you. And, who knows, it may happen again someday."_

FIN


End file.
